


Skies Opened

by GreenestApple



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Rush (2013)
Genre: Arguing, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, James Being an Asshole, M/M, kinda OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenestApple/pseuds/GreenestApple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Niki wasn't okay with being called a rat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer time! I don't own any of the characters or material presented in Rush, nor do i claim that the events described here have ever taken place, this is nothing but a work of fiction.
> 
> Okay, so, this little piece of fiction came to me in a dream and i just had to write it down. It is unbetaed, written hastily and also my first published story so be warned. It also has Niki acting way out of character (and maybe James too), but that's kind of the point of the whole story haha. I wasn't sure whether to put this in the Rush or the Formula 1 fandom so hey, i tagged both. I know very little about Formula 1, especially in the seventies, so a lot of the stuff i just had to come up with because i'm lazy and didn't want to do a lot of research. This is very loosely based on the events of the 1976 British Grand Prix, but note the word loosely. 
> 
> Have fun!

It hadn't bothered him in a long time, but when the team presented him with his new helmet, "The Rat" proudly displayed on the visor, he felt a small twitch somewhere deep inside his chest. It briefly reminded him of a needle biting into the side of his heart.

"Gut." He simply said, turning back to inspect the car.

The name hadn't bothered him since he could remember and he was determined that it wouldn't bother him now. Even though it almost brought the distinctive taste of blood back into his mouth, made his heart pound with shame, he wouldn't dwell on it. Fortunately there was the excitement of an impending race to take his mind off unpleasant memories, lulling him to a familiar habit of going over every little thing on his car, seeing to it that it would perform as commanded on the track. He wouldn’t allow for a single blemish. He hummed to himself, bringing his face close to the car's slick surface as he peered at a tiny scab in the red paint.

"Going to lick it clean, are you now?" A voice boomed somewhere behind him. A lesser man would've startled, but Niki held to his stance and kept looking at the small mark, bringing his finger to smooth over it.

"What is it, Hunt?" He asked as stoically as ever, turning to face the other driver. James was beaming at him, hair glowing in the sun as the stalked closer, looking every bit the womanizer he was.

"Just came for my usual morning stroll, it's all. Excellent weather for a Brit to win the British GP, don't you think?" James stated, smiling so heartily that Niki felt his own lips curl a bit in response.

"Perhaps." He said, amused at the way James was making his way leisurely around the Ferrari pit as if he belonged there. Technically he wasn't allowed in there, but since everyone had left Niki to take his time checking the car, as he always did, and as Niki couldn't give a damn where James was outside of the track, he let him be. 

"Don't you have anything more important to do?" He asked after a few minutes of him silently inspecting his tires and James, having taken a seat on a nearby table, fiddling with his racing overalls. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by the apparent hostility of his rival. Niki tried denying himself how much he actually enjoyed the other driver's presence, but was betrayed by his own body as he found himself softly smiling at James' odd fiddling.

"Not really, I’m not a crazy person like you so I don't have to cuddle my car before every race." He chuckled. "Besides, I like watching you fuss, it's relaxing." He kept on smiling even as Niki gave him a very skeptical look. James' attention was then caught by the blood red helmet sitting on the table beside him and Niki felt a strange sort of coldness wash over him. James snatched the helmet to his lap, absentmindedly running his fingers over it.

"Put that down." Niki said and willed for his heart to slow down, staring at James with all the calmness he could muster.

"Touchy." James laughed, but didn't let go of the helmet, instead flipping it over in his lap and snapping the visor into place. It was then that he froze for a second, a wicked smile forming on his lips. "The rat?" He mused thoughtfully and then looked to Niki, who stared back, eyes wide. James' expression suddenly brightened.

"Oh my good God how did I not think of that!" He burst into roaring laughter, slapping his hand on his thigh as he practically fell from the table. "You look exactly like a rat, how on earth had I not noticed?" He breathed out in between giggles, managing to imitate the way Niki's front teeth protruded from his mouth.

Niki wasn't sure what was happening as he stood there, looking at James mocking him, but his chest felt like splitting suddenly and he didn't know whether he was breathing or not. He only knew that he needed to be someplace else, fast.

"Good luck on the race." He stated, then turned and walked briskly away.

"Hey, Niki! Come on, where are you going?" He heard James yell after him, but paid it no mind. He didn't slow down once as he passed a few Ferrari crew members giving him strange looks and a journalist snapping a picture right in his face. He kept on going until he reached the men's room, where he locked the door and turned to the sink for support, hanging his head heavily as he drew in shaky breaths.

When he found his eyes in the mirror he was shocked to see they were brimming with tears, a childlike softness in his expression. He immediately scrunched his face up in anger, snatching a paper towel to furiously wipe away at the wetness. How could he be this affected by those words, after all this time? How could he still hate it so much? How could he care so much about James telling him he looked like a hideous rodent? Still, the mere thought of it brought another surge of hurt over him, though he tried to ignore it. He could hear it from strangers, from fans, from his own team even, but hearing it from James was something else. Hearing him say how disgusting he was felt unbearable. He gripped the sink with white knuckles, staring at himself in the mirror with steadfast eyes.

There was a race to be driven and he was damned if he'd let this lapse in character slow him down. He knew he needed to simply force this whole event from his mind and so he did, putting all thoughts of Hunt and his mocking laughter aside to a deep corner of his mind where many other things rested as well. He splashed cold water on his face, making sure that no signs of tears were visible and opened the door to walk back to his car, sure that by now Hunt had fucked off back to his own crew.

"You okay Niki? You looked a bit shaky there a moment ago." An older man in Ferrari gear piped up, but Niki waved the noisy engineer off, and sure enough, the garage was once again void of any intruders as he set to finishing his rounds on the car. The helmet rested on the table again, left there by Hunt and Niki made certain not to spare it another glance before the race.

~

Having finished the race in second place, Niki was not happy. He had been leading for almost the entirety of the race, but one error with his hand briefly fumbling over the gearshift had brought Hunt the victory. On the other hand he was just glad for it to be over as he was still slightly shaken by what had happened before the race, despite his best efforts to not think on it further. He hadn't felt in total control of himself on the track and that scared him.

Standing on the podium was trying. He attempted to put aside his thoughts again, but was sure that his uneasiness was obvious. Fortunately, he thought, everyone would merely see it as him being frustrated over the second place. The crowd was going crazy for Hunt, shouting his name in unison as the man egged them on, raising his hands into the sky as a sign of victory. Niki stood there, in Hunt's shadow, for the cameras to take their pictures and gave a few waves to the fans, keeping his eyes from straying to the other driver. Though he couldn't exactly begrudge James for what happened earlier, he was too agitated to face him yet. Finally deeming it acceptable to leave, he slid down from the podium and began to walk back to the pits, but he didn't get far as a journalist cornered him for a comment on the race.

He answered curtly to the usual questions about the track and Hunt overtaking him, hoping to slip away as soon as possible. The sound of the celebration was suffocating and he couldn't think clearly. It was then that an announcement rang out and the crowd quieted down somewhat, a shrill noise from the speakers making it difficult to make out the message at first.

"...that due to a complaint from team Ferrari leading to an investigation by the track officials, James Hunt and the McLaren team have been disqualified. The winner of the British Grand Prix is Niki Lauda with team Ferrari!"

All was quiet for a few seconds and Niki contemplated running away in that small moment of confusion. Though very quickly the resounding roar of the crowd built to be deafening, voices of disapproval mixing in with cheers and ear-piercing whistling and Niki just stood there, completely caught off guard as multiple journalists all rushed in and demanded a comment from him.

"I-.. I didn't know that-.." He mumbled very uncharacteristically, swiping at his hair anxiously.

"Didn't know what, that your little scheme would work, you fucking rat?" A familiar voice bellowed over the cacophony of other sounds, making Niki turn around to see a furious James all but tearing his way to him amidst the crowd. He was nailed in place, nervously sucking on his upper teeth as the other driver approached, stopping a few feet from him and the sea of journalists.

"It's strange how I never noticed that despite the fact that you have the face of a rat, you also behave like one." He said, feigning a pleasant smile as he took him by the shoulder and squeezed him against his side, now talking to the cameras.

"Take a close look everyone, here's a prime example of a hideous little rodent trying to gnaw its way to the championship!" He laughed in that charming way that he always did. "And just look at those teeth, he'll be there in no time at all, won't he?"

"James, please-.." James heard the heavily accented plea, but was enjoying his tirade all too much to care.

"It's a good thing you now have a helmet that really fits you, my ratty little friend. Everyone can see you coming from a mile away and not make the same mistake as I did," he continued, the cruel words wrapped in a cheerful tone, "and that's calling an ugly rat my friend." James finished, laughing lightly as if he was merely making polite small talk with the media. That’s when he suddenly noticed how unnaturally silent the journalists were. The crowd was no longer barking questions at the pair of them, but seemed instead genuinely stunned into silence and for the first time after starting to address the press, he actually looked at Niki.

Niki had been mortified as soon as he'd heard that awful word leave James' lips again in front of all those people and, god forbid, cameras. Blood had rushed to his face and he'd been left standing there, completely frozen, a gaping hole forming in his chest cavity, a void that sucked in all of his insides and left behind a mere shell held up by nothing else but James' hold on him. He'd let his eyes trail from the people in front of him to settle firmly on the ground as James said the most terrible things about him and then, in front of the whole world, he had completely unraveled.

James had never been as unsure of the reality of what he was seeing with his own eyes. Niki Lauda was crying. Not just a handful of tears either. His cheeks were utterly wet, expression nothing short of devastated as he wept. James could hear the cameras starting to go off, lights flashing, but Niki just stood there weakly staring at the ground, his mouth hanging slightly open as tiny sobs forced their way out, protruding teeth clearly visible. "No...” James whispered, trying very hard to shake off the absolute bewilderment that had taken a hold of him, to move, to apologize, to do something! "No! Niki I didn't mean it!" He exclaimed louder, taking the smaller man by the shoulders and spinning him around to face him.

"No, please, I’m so sorry, I didn't mean it Niki, I didn't mean any of it!" James was frantic, but Niki was too far gone to really understand the words spoken to him, decades worth of suppressed sorrow and shame having chosen the worst possible moment to make their way to the surface and he was simply inconsolable. James saw that Niki didn't seem to even be aware of his surroundings and so he tried to shield the smaller driver from the barrage of reporters, who by now had also shaken off their bafflement and were smelling the story of the year. James pulled Niki to his chest, burying his hand in the soft hair at the back of his head as he gently brought the other man against him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize, please forgive me...” He whispered into Niki's ear, feeling like the worst shit alive, but how could he have known that this would happen? Niki was supposed to just sneer at his words and call him an asshole, maybe pout at him in that adorable way that he always did when they argued, anything but this. He knew his words had been cruel but he’d just been so angry and thought that Niki had a heart of stone anyway, that he wouldn’t mind. Oh how wrong he’d been. He begun to hastily walk them towards the paddock, grateful to the other drivers and team members who were trying to hold the crazed media people back.

"What the fuck happened out there? Those bloodsuckers went crazy-.. wait, is he crying?" James served Alastair to a deadpan stare as they passed him by, heading to his trailer.

"Um, James, what the actual fuck?" He heard him reply.

He passed by a few other puzzled faces, but his expression told them not to say a word. The door to the trailer was thankfully open as he had no idea where the key was and so he shuffled them both quickly inside and closed the door. Niki was still partly holding on to him, but looked like collapsing in a heap to the ground more than anything else, so he sat him down on the edge of his bed and kneeled in front of him on the floor.

"Niki, I-.." He began, but found himself at a loss for words. Tears stung the corners of his eyes suddenly, but he fought them off, exhaling slowly. He placed a hand awkwardly on the smaller driver's knee and was surprised when Niki turned his head swiftly to look at him. James swore he'd never noticed how blue his eyes were before then. The tears had dried, but his eyes seemed glazed over, distant and sorrowful and it was such a foreign expression on the Austrian's face that James had to once again shake himself to believe that this whole situation was true. The race, his disqualification and Niki's victory seemed so very far away then.

"I don't know what to say." He confessed, pressing his hand more firmly to Niki's knee. He knew the other driver was still definitely not himself and in a very vulnerable state, so he had no idea how to proceed from there. He only knew that it hurt him unimaginably to see his friend so utterly saddened.

"I-.." Niki whispered, sounding like he hadn't spoken in years and startling James completely. "I know that I’m repulsive..." He choked out, face starting to distort with a fresh wave of burning shame. "You-.. do not have to tell me so." His accent was so thick that it was difficult for James to make out the words, but when he did he had a hard time believing his ears. Niki was crying again, softly this time and James had never been so lost in his life.

"No, love, no," he managed, shuffling a little closer to Niki "those things I said are not true, oh look at you, no, please believe me. I was just so angry, please forgive me." He'd reached his hand to wipe at the wetness on the other man's cheeks, not quite believing how soft they were and not quite believing just how much his words had wounded this man, this resilient little man. Gone was everything he'd come to associate with the driver, the stoic demeanor and curt words, it was like he'd been peeled with only the very core of him visible anymore. It was strange and yet somehow so very endearing.

"Stop." Came the shaky reply, but James was not about to give up, he felt like he was on the verge of something, of breaking a barrier between them that had been unreachable before.

"No, I’m telling you the truth, Niki, please listen. You are very beautiful and dear to me." Now he could feel a small smile sneaking onto his face, a genuine, relieved smile. Like he'd needed to say that for a long time. "I would not be the racing driver I am today, not the same man, without you," he leaned forward, placing both of his hand on Niki's shoulders, "I honestly don't know where I would be without you." He laughed to distract himself from the way his heart was hammering against his chest, from the weight of his own words.

"Why would you say that?" As fresh tears fell sadly from his downcast lashes, Niki folded gently in on himself, bowing his head in a sorrowful display as his hands came up to cover his face and James simply couldn't stand it anymore. He lifted himself to sit beside his friend and wrapped both arms around him, cupping the back of his head and tangling his fingers in the delicate curls. He pulled the smaller body to his and rested his chin gently on top of Niki's head.

"I think I’m quite in love with you, you see." He spoke quietly, as if afraid of scaring the other away. They seemed like impossible words to James himself, but in his heart he felt no sense of wrongness, only peace. Niki began to cry in earnest then, burying his head in James' overalls as he sobbed in utter abandonment, letting go of what remained of his pride and his shame, surrendering fully.

"I'm so sorry about those things I said, I’m so sorry, love." James buried his nose in the brown curls, finding such comfort in their sweet scent.

"James, please-..don't lie to me, I beg you, bitte.." Niki was so undone, he wasn't sure anymore how he'd ended up there, so naked and vulnerable and utterly open. He had wound himself up so tightly over the years that when a single thread snapped, the entire intricate construction of Niki Lauda came crashing down. He didn't know what he was feeling, but it felt like every emotion he'd ever known all mixed together and it was so overwhelming he found himself physically ill by it.

"No, Niki, look at me, I wouldn't lie to you, please, look," James brought his hands to both sides of Niki's soaked face and brought him eye to eye with him "I would not lie to you." He promised. Niki's face was bare, his hand curling itself tightly onto the other man's wrist.

"Please don't cry." James said, as he leaned in close to touch their foreheads together and let his eyes fall shut. Niki was breathing harshly, his brow knitted tightly together as he screwed his eyes shut as well. He was trying desperately to get back to himself and stop this foolishness, but it was as if his whole being had agreed that this was the right thing to happen, this, him trusting himself with James, was the only true solution to everything he'd hidden away for so long. How did this happen? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried. What was this thing between them, he wondered. Was it good? How could it not be?

Niki opened his eyes and backed away slightly. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words. His hands shook profusely as he extended them to twist in the fabric of James' overalls, faltering for a second, then he closed the distance between them as decisively as he did on the race track and touched his lips to James'. He had no idea what he was doing, but it felt like leaving everything he'd ever know behind and jumping into the unknown.

James could taste the bitter salt on Niki's lips. He moaned in surprise as Niki pressed against him suddenly as if in search of something to ground himself on. It wasn't exactly a kiss, their lips brushing together as they breathed shudderingly into each other's slightly ajar mouths, both too stunned to move, but it was enough for James' heart to lurch almost painfully in his chest. He leaned in closer, more aggressively, a low rumble building in his throat as he caught Niki's lips more firmly and kissed him like he'd sometimes thought of wanting to kiss him; with everything he's got.

"Nein!" Niki cried then, pushing away from James as if burned. He looked bewildered before covering his face with his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp as he visibly shook. What was happening to him? He had no idea what he wanted and James was right there and he wanted to kiss him and the way James had kissed him was just so... What was he doing? This was all so foreign to him.

"Hey, it's okay." James whispered, gently pulling on Niki's wrists as he took his hands into his. "It's okay." He echoed, but Niki's expression had hardened, starting to remind James of the man he was used to seeing.

"I can't do this." He simply said and James could hear the strain in his voice, the silent battle. He was at a loss for words again. The things that had happened after the race were so unexpected that he himself was struggling to keep up and he couldn't even imagine how Niki must have felt.

"I have to go." Niki all but whispered.

"I understand." James replied and watched sadly as Niki rose to shaky legs and walked to the door where he halted for a moment.

"Do you think they will ever let me forget about this?" He asked, a surprisingly wry look on his face.

"Not a chance." James laughed. Niki nodded, looking pensive suddenly. 

"Danke, James." He said so silently that James had a hard time making out the words, but before he could reply Niki had walked out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere that at some point in his career Niki had a helmet where some marketing person had thought of writing "the rat" on it, so i kind of ran with that. I personally was sort of imagining the actual Niki and James acting this out in my head, but that's just a preference. I might be up for writing a second chapter later, but haven't decided yet, guess i'm going to see if anyone enjoys the first one to begin with haha. By the way, am i late for this fandom or what? I hope there are still people out there that are interested in this stuff. If you got this far, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so i wasn't planning on making another chapter, but since you guys left such amazing comments and kudos that made me squeal and cry and flail about and all that (thank you so much to everyone!), i thought why not make another chapter or two. Just keep in mind that this was not the original idea and if the plot feels a little forced or odd it's because i hadn't planned it from the beginning, but i hope you have fun anyway! I really can't believe it's already been a year since i first posted, time is weird and i have been working on this chapter for waaay too long so now i decided to stop overthinking it and just post :P sorry for any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise

Niki couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to walk into a nightmare. He nervously breathed in the last of his tobacco before crushing it under his foot, lifting his eyes to the blackened sky with a frown. The clouds were still heavy with rain, milling ominously above him as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The air smelled of wet soil and gasoline, and oddly enough, it made him feel at home.

The sight of a racing track had always left him at ease, mending his troubled mind even at the unruliest of times. It reminded him of his ambitions and the very clear cut way he was to achieve them; by crossing the finish line first. No bullshit involved. He sighed as a droplet hit the tip of his nose, closing his eyes to enjoy the calm before the storm. A slight trembling had made its way to his hands and he tightly fisted the fabric of his overalls to rid himself of it, commanding his body to cease its unhelpful fidgeting

“Niki, time to go.” A voice interrupted his musings. There was someone by his side then, a quick brush of a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see a man in a bright yellow Ferrari jacket looking at him with a stern, unmoved expression.

Niki gave the man a small nod, walking past him and inside the building in a rush, leaving the calm of the racing track behind. It was only a few days since he’d left the comfort of his own home and already he was tired of people looking at him differently; tired of the whispers behind his back and snide glances when they thought he couldn't see. The rat, as some had viciously taken to calling him now, knowing that it would get to him and he cursed himself for so readily handing them that weapon. He was very much on edge, despite doing his all to force the bothersome thoughts from his head.

Even his own teammates doubted him, having voiced their dissatisfaction more than once by now and Niki worried that maybe he’d lost the Italians trust forever. They hadn’t looked kindly upon his outburst and though he was still their world champion, something unpleasant lurked beneath the surface. A rift was forming between him and his team and he knew only bad things could come out of it. In the future, he would need to conduct himself in a manner more suitable to the image of Ferrari, as he’d discreetly been informed by a very red faced man that some people liked to call il Commendatore, whose piercingly disdainful glare had been obvious to Niki even from behind his pitch-black sunglasses.

Niki marched his way through the hallways, suddenly very unsure as to where he was going and increasingly troubled by what would await him at his destination. The track personnel looked at him strangely as he stormed past, but gave no indication as to whether he was going the right way. The building was unfamiliar to him and since the Ferrari crew seemed to be avoiding him like a leper, he was left to find his own way to the press conference. Frustrated, he turned a corner sharply and ran straight into someone.

"Fuck's sake!" The man exclaimed, stumbling forward a step or two before whipping around to face him and Niki could not believe his luck.

"Watch where you're- Oh," James breathed softly as he laid eyes on Niki, everything around them seeming to come to a halt. Niki opened his mouth in surprise, but no words came out.

James had thought of things to say, of course he had. He'd spent long nights writing desperate words in letters he never ended up sending, so in fact, he had a million and one things to say, but none of them actually came out of his mouth just then. He’d only seen distant glimpses of Niki for the past few days and having him suddenly so close was like being struck by lightning; his whole body sang with nervous energy.

"How are you?" James sputtered, making as if to reach for the other man's shoulder, but halting the movement mid-air, looking oddly bashful as he let his arm fall back to his side.

"Good," Niki said, his eyes wandering from the floor to one of the inappropriate patches on James' overalls and then the wall behind him, being sure to stray from the other driver’s steady gaze. He was direly aware of the many looks their sudden reunion was garnering and wished nothing more than to turn invisible.

"Terrible weather, eh?" James said and Niki could not help but meet his eyes then to give him a very irritated look. Leave it to the Brit to start talking about the weather, he thought, saying nothing in return as he turned his head to absentmindedly gaze at his surroundings and glare at the people still curiously staring his way.

"We should probably talk somewhere more private. I mean, uh, if that's what you want," James all but whispered, hesitant in his proposal, voice low and husky.

"Yes," Niki replied, stomach twisting at James' tone.

"After we're done with this, then?" James asked softly and Niki gave him a curt nod before attempting to slip past him.

"Niki." James grabbed his forearm then, turning sharply towards him, his expression suddenly sad, nearly distraught and Niki found his own resolve weakening at the sight.

"I am so sorry about this," James said in a hush, motioning shortly towards the end of the hallway where some other drivers and personnel were buzzing about, waiting for the press conference to begin, "I know they're going to ask you about-".

"I can handle it." Niki cut him off, his voice stern, but James could see a distinct softness around his eyes. He seemed so very tired and James wanted to just take him any place else right then, fuck the press and all their stupid questions, but he also knew Niki, and Niki would not back away from this. 

"Yes, of course, silly me," James said with a small laugh, letting go of Niki’s forearm, which he’d been holding on to a bit harder than necessary, before stuffing his hands in his pockets with a cheeky grin. To his surprise, Niki gave him a small smile, teeth peeking out slightly and James felt a funny feeling swell in his chest. He really wanted this damn conference to be over soon.

Niki took his leave then. The smile quickly faded from his lips and he shook his head slightly to clear it from the sudden intrusion of unwelcome feelings as he made his way to the end of the hallway where they were already ushering the drivers through the door. He briefly wondered whether he'd made a mistake in not talking to the press before this. Following the other drivers into the conference room felt like being taken for slaughter, but he knew he couldn't show any weakness now. James was a few paces behind him and Niki swore he could physically feel his heated stare at the back of his head.

The room was filled with a low chatter when he entered and took his seat beside Depailler, but as more and more eyes started to fall on him an unsettling quiet crept upon the room as well. Niki couldn't remember the last time he'd felt as unwelcome before. His heart hammered in his chest, hands so sweaty and trembling he didn't think he could hold a pen if needed to, but he kept his gaze steady on the crowded room.

The cameras started to roll with some cluttering and a steady hum that overcame the silence. The journalists began to routinely flip open their notebooks, some exchanging hushed words before breaking into jovial laughter, their eyes lingering on him more than the others, or so he felt like. His heel was tapping furiously against the floor in a nervous tic and like a phantom pressure against his body he was sure he could feel James' stare again. Niki really wished he could have just told the asshole to cut it off right then, because it was definitely not helping.

"So Patrick, how was it with the six wheeler in these weather conditions-," a young reporter fired out eagerly after being given the signal from the organisers, the rest of the sentence getting lost on Niki as some small amount of relief washed over him. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, he thought, as Depailler started droning on about the front-end grip of his car, excited as always to give insight into his unique ride.

“-but the rain made it very challenging.” Depailler finished, all too soon to Niki's liking, and leaned back in his seat. 

”Coming to you Niki,” he startled unwittingly at the mention of his name, “I've heard talks that some of the other drivers are worried you could be a danger out there in the track, considering what happened after the race a few weeks ago, they think that maybe you’re not right in the head, so what do you have to say to that?”

“I am fine,” he stated, not missing a beat as he leaned forward in his seat and glared at the reporter who gingerly sat down under his stare, looking wholly unsatisfied with the answer, “I qualified in second place, shouldn't that already tell you something?” He said flatly, hoping his demeanour didn't expose any of his agitation. 

Knowing that the other drivers were doubting him was hurtful, but he pushed that thought aside for now. If he was to make it out of this god forsaken press conference without another scandal on his hands he needed to tread carefully, because there was blood in the water now and the whole room could smell it.

“So you're saying that what happened at Silverstone will have no effect on your performance tomorrow?” Another reporter pressed.

“Yes.”

“What made you react the way you did?” The same man inquired, emphasising his words in a mocking manner and earning many chuckles from around the room. Niki really hoped that his face wasn't as red as it felt.

“I'm not here to discuss that,” he answered firmly, making the mistake then of glancing to his right where his eyes briefly met with James' and his stomach twisted almost painfully. James had that look on his face again, the one from that day, when he'd knelt on the floor in front of Niki and pleaded for his forgiveness, hands wiping away at tears. Niki swallowed thickly and stared at his own crossed hands on the table instead, willing them to stop shaking so.

“We saw you walking away with Hunt, or more precisely I should say, Hunt walking away with you, what happened after that?” The same man continued boldly amidst more poorly concealed sounds of amusement from his peers.

“None of your business,” Niki snapped back, instantly cursing himself in his mind, and the reporter seemed pleasantly surprised by his reaction.

“I know you two are quite close with each other, contrary to what most people might think based on your rivalry, so was this just a small bump in the road or is there trouble in paradise?” The reporter still pressed on and the other drivers around the table shared glances, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. Niki ground his teeth together, deciding not to gratify the man with an answer.

“How about you ask us about the qualifying, eh chap? Isn't that why we're here?” James suddenly spoke up, as smooth as ever, and Niki found himself nodding along in agreement, thankful to no longer be the centre of attention.

“Come on James, you know what we all want to hear about and it ain't the qualifying,” the reporter said to him in a much more amiable tone, as if discussing with an old friend, other reporters voicing their agreement with him.

“Then I think you should bloody well leave, because we're not here to entertain you,” James stated, all pleasantness gone. It made a shiver go down Niki's spine, but at the same time he was irked that James seemed to think that he couldn’t handle himself.

“Fine, jeez,” the reporter replied, throwing his hands in the air in an appeasing gesture as he took a seat. There was a moment of hesitation, the journalists sharing surprised looks, before an older man at the back of the room stood, seeming a little dazed by the unusual exchange of words that just took place. After all, James was usually very agreeable when it came to the press.

“Hans, your team must be very happy with your performance today, what do you think was the critical component to your success? We are used to seeing you a bit further back at the grid after all,” the reporter went to say after regaining his wits and Hans laughed lightly before launching into an answer about the weather and his tires and something about a squirrel on the track, but Niki wasn’t really concentrating. His gaze wandered through the full room, foot ceasing its rampant tapping.

Despite his best efforts, the memories of what happened in Britain had shadowed his every moment for the past few weeks, looming over him like a pack of bothersome creatures born just to taunt him. He had thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of the whole world and yet somehow it didn't feel nearly like the most important thing that happened. Every time he closed his eyes, it wasn't the flashing of those cameras that he saw, nor the stunned faces of his fellow drivers, but James.

He had thought about James until his head spun. The memories had become mixed and muddled as he’d mulled over them, the whole event draped in a dreamlike cloak, seeming thoroughly inconceivable. It felt like such an impossible thing, the words James had said to him, the way he’d held him, surely Niki had just been imagining it? Was he losing his mind? He felt lost. He had absolutely no idea how he felt about James and it was beyond terrifying. He was sure that there had never really been a moment in his life when he didn't know exactly what he wanted and how to get it; but then there was this asshole. 

Of course he’d worried for his future in the sport, what his team and the fans thought of him now, whether they would shun him, but those thoughts were mostly fleeting, going as soon as they came. He couldn’t undo the past, stop himself from unravelling, so what would be the point in grieving over it. What he needed to focus on was the future, the next race and proving himself to all those who now doubted him, especially within his own team.

He'd kept to himself during those weeks after Silverstone and unplugged the phone when the calls would simply not stop coming. The stone-faced Austrian known by everyone as a hard devil unmoved by criticism, suddenly reduced to a sobbing mess in the arms of his worst rival? All sorts of people hounded him for a comment on why he'd apparently lost his mind and he couldn’t blame them for asking. He only wondered whether James had tried to call. 

Some nights he had woken up panting, his body still humming with dreams of James' hands on his face, of his lips roaming hungrily over his, a lustful yearning in the pit of his stomach. Those nights he had stayed awake, busied himself with race preparations, too frightened of his own thoughts to allow himself to drift off and lose control of them. When he looked at James he still didn't know what he felt, but he couldn't deny that something powerful definitely reared its head inside of him.

“Niki,” he snapped his focus back into the present, eyes finding the reporter’s with all the conviction he could muster, ”we’ve all heard how you don't like this track, can you elaborate more on why that is?”

“The track is outdated and dangerous and in these weather conditions practically undriveable. I never enjoy driving here,” he answered confidently, glad to be asked an actually relevant question finally. 

“So you think the race should be cancelled for safety reasons?” The man inquired and Niki felt the words he was about to say die in his throat. Yes, he did think the race should be cancelled, but he also knew that, no, he shouldn't be the one to say it. Not now. Not after Silverstone. Ferrari might just literally crucify him and he’d definitely had more than his fair share of drama for some time to come.

“I don't see why it matters what I think,” he said instead, trying to brush the question off and hoping the reporter would leave it at that.

“But you would prefer that it was cancelled? If the weather persisted until tomorrow?” The man still pushed his point, probably knowing he was on to something and Niki paused for a second, faces of all the drivers who'd lost their lives flashing briefly before his eyes.

“Yes,” he said, finding himself unable to lie.

Instantly the room filled with sounds of disapproval, cameras flashing more aggressively as he fought to keep his poise unaffected and face neutral. If he hadn't already been painted by the media as the most gutless man in motor racing, he was sure he’d done their work for them now. He knew right away that he'd made a mistake, but somehow he felt like he would’ve done an even greater disservice to himself by lying. Niki could see from the way Daniele Audetto stood to his left, hands crossed and expression grim, eyes coolly surveying the commotion, that he would be in for some tough times with Ferrari.

“Coward!” An older reporter exclaimed in a huff, giving his hand a wave in Niki's general direction and he couldn't help but feel shame bloom at the centre of his chest. 

“Are you going to ask the FIA to cancel the race? Is there going to be a vote?” The same man pried over the commotion, seeming very excited that his probing had paid off.

“That's not what I said,” Niki tried to calmly state, but it seemed that very few people were listening anymore.

“Are you scared, Niki?” Asked the man then, but he gave no answer, stunned into silence for a second.

“He's gonna start crying again, isn't he?” Someone called out tauntingly and laughter spread through the room. The table under Niki's elbows shook slightly then and he turned without thinking to look at James who had slammed his fist down on it.

“Which one of you arseholes said that?” James demanded angrily and the room quickly turned to direct its ireful attention towards him instead. If he hadn't been so shocked, Niki would’ve probably kicked James as hard as he could under the table.

“Okay, let's settle down, if there's no order then the press-conference can't go on! Only questions about the qualifying, please!” An organiser yelled, having picked that time to get involved as he raised his hands up in a calming gesture towards the journalists.

The clamouring started to swiftly die down, a few grumbles heard here and there as more questions were begrudgingly asked from the other drivers, but Niki couldn't concentrate on any of it. He was furious, absolutely livid. His jaw was clenched so tightly together that he wasn't sure if he could ever open it again. What was James thinking? 

He had completely disregarded what Niki had told him, choosing instead to make an even bigger fool out of him. Did James not think that he could handle a few asshole reporters without bursting into tears? The uneasy thought of James pitying him crept on Niki out of the blue and he struggled to breathe for a second. Maybe James didn’t think he was suited to be a racing driver, that he was too much of a weakling as so many other people seemed to think. His head spun, he felt sick.

"That's it for today, the press is welcomed back tomorrow evening after the race. Thank you!" The organisers finished up the event and Niki immediately bolted from his seat, making for the closest exit.

In the hallway he walked as briskly as he could without outright looking like he was trying to run away. God, he needed a smoke. He could hear a set of heavier footsteps promptly gaining on him and really hoped that James would get the hint and fuck off.

"Niki, where are you going?" James asked, his voice low so as not to be picked up by the other people flowing into the hallway. No such luck, Niki thought.

"Fuck off, Hunt," he retorted, not sparing the other man, who'd now caught up with him, a single glance. Damn his short legs for not carrying him away faster.

"What do you mean 'fuck off'?" James asked, genuinely bewildered at this point.

"I mean fuck off!" Niki said with more force this time, running an exasperated hand through his hair and glancing quickly around to see that there was nobody in hearing distance.

"Wait, Niki, just stop okay?" James said, grabbing him gently by the elbow and bringing Niki’s smaller body easily to a halt.

"Don't touch me," Niki all but hissed, yanking his arm back forcefully and eyeing James with animosity.

"I know it was tough in there-" James began to say, but Niki cut him off.

"I could've handled it myself! Not everything is always about you, James," Niki said, visibly upset and it made James take a small step backwards.

"I couldn't help myself, they were treating you like shit!" He tried explaining, but the hurt on Niki's face didn't let up and James could physically feel his heart dropping.

"Why should that matter to you?" Niki snapped back.

"You know damn well why," said James, beginning to get a little irritated himself. Deep down he knew he'd been out of line, but right then he couldn't think about anything except that Niki was treating him like a stranger and it made his heart twist unpleasantly. Things weren't going at all like he'd imagined they would. 

The two drivers stared at each other tensely for a few seconds before both becoming aware of the growing number of people around them, "please, let's just go outside, okay?" James pleaded, wanting badly to just talk things through with Niki. He gestured towards the end of a quiet hallway from where he knew the doors led next to the pits and Niki was silent in return, taking off before James could say anything more, his hand already shaking for a cigarette.

It was pouring once Niki emerged once again from the building, large black puddles gathering on the side of the track and he cast a weary look to the sky before scrambling in his pocket for his smokes. James wasn't far behind, stopping a few feet from Niki under the narrow roof to observe the track himself, an uncharacteristically solemn look on his face. They stood silently for a small moment, argument forgotten as they let the cold breeze settle against their heated skin.

Niki could feel his anger dwindle despite himself, shoulders slumping slightly as the storm inside dissolved and left behind only fatigue. He knew James and he knew at heart that he would never doubt Niki’s ability as a driver, nor his fortitude as a person, not even after what had happened. The last few weeks had left him volatile, ready to lash out with pent up energy and he realised he’d need to control himself better. This didn’t change the fact that he was greatly annoyed with James and his knight in a shining armour antics though. His hands felt somehow numb, shaking just enough to be noticeable as he lifted the lighter to his cigarette.

"You really think the race should be cancelled?" James asked then, turning slightly towards Niki who was having trouble lighting his cigarette in the damp, windy air, but getting no reaction from the other driver. James took this as a sign that Niki really wanted him to just shut up about it, and so he did.

"You know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” James said instead, much softer than he would've intended and at first he wasn't even sure if Niki had heard him over the sound of the rain, but he could spy the way his brow twitched, the small flame in his palm flickering in and out of existence and James chuckled slightly to himself; he’d never seen a grown man have such a hard time lighting up a cig.

"Let me help you with that." 

James braved himself to move closer, fetching his own lighter from his pocket to bring up to Niki's lips and press the steady flame to the end of his cigarette, hoping that his offering would be accepted. He watched intently as Niki hollowed his cheeks to draw in a deep breath, his eyes falling shut and the frown on his face dissolving as the familiar taste filled his senses and James found himself softly smiling at the sight, a warmth coiling in his stomach. He stuffed the lighter back into his pocket, but didn't move away.

"Danke," Niki whispered, smoke curling upwards into the air between them as their eyes met and Niki's brow pulled swiftly back together, as if he'd suddenly remembered just who he was dealing with again.

"You should not have said anything," he stated, drawing more aggressively on his cigarette, the tip glowing bright red and casting a pink hue on his features in the dimming evening.

"Still angry at me, love?" James replied and Niki really hoped he would stop calling him that; it made the pit of his stomach ache in an odd way

"You made me look like an idiot,” he said in a matter of fact tone, narrowing his eyes at his rival, “you're such an asshole," he declared, puffing out more smoke. 

Thanks to their close proximity, Niki couldn't help but make note of just how much taller James was, golden hair cascading around his face as he looked downwards at Niki like a benevolent god, a smile playing on his lips. Niki wanted desperately to make more space between them, but he was damned if he was going to be the one to back down first.

"So I’ve been told," James admitted, grinning slightly wider, but seeing that Niki only narrowed his eyes at him, corners of his mouth pulling down in disapproval, he reconsidered his approach.

"But you're right, I shouldn't have gotten myself involved in all that, it wasn't my place. It was just hard to see them have a go at you like that," he continued softly, trying on a more sober expression even though he suddenly felt like his skin was too tight on his body and the cold air suffocating and hot in his lungs and all he wanted was to replace the cigarette between Niki's lips with his tongue and oh no, he really was a goner wasn't he?

“You should learn to control your emotions,” Niki said and James felt like a schoolboy being scolded.

"And maybe you should stop controlling them so much," he retorted easily, seeming to catch Niki off guard by the look on his face.

"You saw what happens when I don't," Niki said accusingly, but looked away sharply as if only then realising what he was alluding to, a weight settling in his stomach. Even though he'd tried to prepare himself, he didn't think he was ready for this conversation.

"Yes, and it struck me as the kind of thing that would eventually happen when one hasn't cried since being a baby," James said, an image of Niki's hopeless sobbing flashing behind his eyes, "you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, love, it will do you no good to bottle things up inside," he all but whispered and reached out to steal the cigarette from Niki's hand, brushing his fingers against the other's palm as he did, before bringing it up to his own mouth and taking a drag. Niki was staring at him with an open expression, as if torn between cursing him out and running away, but instead he opted for snatching his cigarette back and breathing it in like a man on the brink of drowning.

“You-“ Niki went to say, words catching in his throat for a second as his eyes darted to the ground, “might be right,” he admitted, never one to shy away from the truth, even when it happened to be delivered by his infuriating rival.

“Am I not always?” 

“Definitely not,” Niki replied and though it was dark, James could spy the softness of his expression, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a small smile he unsuccessfully tried to hide behind his smoking hand.

The rain was picking up, distant thunder rumbling in the clouds and James felt electrified, like his every nerve was standing to attention and he was just itching to do something, to release the longing that had plagued him since that day in Silverstone, hell, since the day he’d met the ill-tempered Austrian. Niki had closed his eyes, his mouth slightly ajar to let the smoke gently roll out with his breath. He seemed to be enjoying the cigarette to an indecent degree, but maybe that was just in James' head as he found himself mesmerized by the sight.

"I'd really love to kiss you right now," he blurted out, too far gone to feel embarrassed by his own frankness and Niki's eyes snapped open to stare into his, an unreadable expression on his face.

"May I?" He asked and before he could stop himself his hand was on Niki's jawline, fingertips dancing up to the shell of his ear and settling in the mess of his curls, anxious not to be rejected.

"Tell me to stop," he mumbled, stepping closer, other hand ghosting its way to the back of Niki's neck. He was so close now he could almost feel the heat coming from the cigarette wedged between them, before Niki's hand fell to his hip, his need to smoke apparently forgotten. James leant in closer still, his frame slightly bent over the smaller figure as the cold tip of his nose bumped against Niki's cheek, his lips laying a small kiss there.

"Say 'stop'," James breathed and pressed his lips softly to the corner of Niki's mouth, wishing badly that the other driver would not heed his words. Or perhaps punch him in the eye.

There was a choir of voices in Niki's head and though they wailed and moaned and lamented their opinions in his ear he couldn't concentrate on anything except for how warm James' hands were against his skin and how intimately he was being held, like a precious thing between his rival's palms. It made his whole body flood with a pleasant sensation. He felt out of breath, intoxicated, the cacophony in his head slowly fading into silence as his eyelids fluttered shut and his head tilted slightly back. That was all the encouragement James needed.

The touch of Niki's lips against his own set the kindled flame in his stomach on fire and he inhaled sharply, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut as their lips slid gently against each other. Now, James thought, things were going a little more like he'd imagined. His hands cradled Niki's head more firmly and he could feel Niki practically fall into him, his stiff posture melting away as a low moan made its way through his throat and James swore it was the most arousing thing he'd ever heard. 

The half-smoked cigarette fell to the ground as Niki's hands curled tightly into the fabric covering James' chest, pulling him closer still, his mouth opening hungrily against the other driver’s and for the first time in weeks he knew exactly what he felt. His head was so hazy with desire that he thought he would simply topple over if James wasn't holding him upright. He strained on his tiptoes, whole body reaching towards James, needing to be closer, yearning for his touch.

"Oh god, Niki," James groaned, pressing their bodies tightly together and catching Niki's lower lip between his teeth. His mouth tasted just like the smoke he’d just been twirling around in his fingers, the inviting aroma drawing James further in as his hand moved to the opening of Niki's unzipped overalls, sliding effortlessly inside and underneath the fire-resistant shirt in a frantic search for exposed skin. His palm found Niki’s bare side, quivering under James’ touch as his thumb ran along the lowest rib and their lips moved wetly against each other, bodies aflame with the foreign touches.

Niki felt like James’ hand was burning a hole through his skin, searing hot and he ached for more, whimpering against James’ wanton mouth in a way that brought heat even to his own cheeks, but any embarrassment he felt was hidden deep beneath the overwhelming lust that drove him to catch the other driver’s lips again and again. James swore under his breath, taken aback by Niki’s eagerness as he walked them backwards until Niki's back hit the wall right beside the door they'd walked through only a few moments ago. The impact forced a small whine from Niki's lips and James paused for a second, eyes meeting Niki’s in a heated moment.

"I need you," James sighed, only getting laboured breathing as a reply as he moved his kisses down Niki's jaw and to his neck, nipping at the pale flesh in hopes of leaving a mark. His hand delved deeper into Niki's clothing, caressing his hip bone just above his underwear, fingers teasing the edge, faltering there for a second before dipping inside.

"James!" Niki cried out then and James lifted his head from the crook of the other man's neck.

"Yes?" He replied breathlessly, smirking at the absolutely wrecked expression on Niki's face, his pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open in a shameless display.

"Someone could see us here," Niki tried to say with some amount of conviction, but what came out of his mouth was instead more akin to a whimper.

"Oh, could they?" He laughed, the hand still in Niki's hair sliding down to his chin instead, thumb smoothing over his lower lip and the smile fell quickly from his face as he looked back into Niki's hooded eyes. 

"I don't think I can stop unless you tell me to, love," he confessed, gaze darting between Niki's lips and eyes, the hand in Niki's overalls ghosting over to knead the supple flesh of his backside, making them both moan in unison. 

"So tell me," he whispered, leaning in to capture Niki's lips for a lingering kiss, his hand pressing more insistently against Niki's bottom.

"Tell me to stop," he urged, voice breaking into a low moan, their mouths mere inches apart as James pressed himself fully against Niki, grinding obscenely on his lower stomach to show him just how turned on he was, his hand pulling the smaller man towards him in a silent plea, fingers pressing between his buttocks.

"James," Niki keened, head falling back against the wall, and though James had heard his name being called hundreds of times in a similar fashion, this one was definitely his favourite, "don't stop, bitte, bitte," Niki begged, hands pulling James' hips desperately against his own and James could not refuse him.

He threw all caution into the wind as he crashed his mouth on Niki's open lips, tongue pushing into the warm wetness and he couldn’t quite understand how he could’ve gone for so long without ever having Niki as an eager mess in his arms. They clung to each other, craving every touch and small sound the other made. James began to wonder where the nearest free bed was as Niki arched against him, tongue pushing and probing his in a heated dance, hand pulling on his hair.

“I want to fuck you,” James whispered, voice low and carnal and Niki could feel his face heat up, knees literally wobbling.

The hand in Niki's overalls moved below his abdomen and firmly grasped the hot, hard flesh there. James drank the resounding moan from Niki’s lips, his hand working slowly in the confines of Niki’s racing suit as the other driver slumped against the wall, all the strength fleeing from his muscles, his hands tangled in James’ golden hair. Then the sound of someone suddenly banging against the door beside them made James jump abruptly away from Niki, his heart racing enough to make him worry about going into cardiac arrest.

"Shit, which way does this fucking thing open," they heard someone exclaim, before the door did swing open and out came a visibly fuming Alastair, his eyes narrowing when they landed on James, who squinted slightly at the sudden onslaught of bright light.

"James, you bag of shit, I’ve been looking for you! What the hell are you doing out here?" He erupted, only then turning enough to spot Niki leaning against the wall with the most incredulous expression James had ever seen on his face.

"What the fuck?" Alastair huffed, taking in Niki's dishevelled appearance and the way he was standing there, like a deer in headlights, which was only the oddest thing Alastair had seen since Silverstone. A lot of odd things seemed to be happening lately.

"Are you guys fighting? For fuck's sake, can't you save that to the race?" He asked, seeming genuinely annoyed and in that moment James couldn't help but think that Alastair was the dumbest man alive to have arrived at that conclusion, but he couldn't have been more grateful for it.

"Uh, yes, sorry. Umm, and you needed to find me because?" James said, trying his hardest to put together words that formed even remotely understandable sentences since all the blood in his body was definitely someplace else than in his brains. Thankfully from past experience he knew that the racing overalls were thick enough to mask any evidence of their previous activities.

"You should be glad that you at least have that pretty face going for you, because hello, you're supposed to be doing some McLaren PR right now and not have a pissing contest with your rival here," Alastair said, pointing an accusing finger at Niki, who was starting to look a little more composed, having pushed himself off the wall and hastily rearranged his dishevelled clothing.

"Yes, right! Uh, if you'll just give me a minute and I’ll catch up with you, okay?" James said in the most casual way he could muster, putting on his most charming smile when in fact all he wanted was for Alastair to simply evaporate into the thin air and be whisked away with the wind.

"Fine, but no punching!" Alastair said in a chastening tone, giving the both of them a once-over before shaking his head and disappearing back through the door. As the door slammed shut and the two were left alone again, James found himself starting to laugh, bursting into a fit of giggles. He tried to mask his amusement behind his hand, but to little success.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" Niki said, considerably less amused, his hand smoothing down his ruffled hair.

"I just suddenly felt like a teenager again, being walked in on like that," James said with a chuckle, "though I’m glad my mum looks nothing like Alastair," he added as Niki stared at him blankly, looking even less amused if possible, with his lips tightly pursed and hands held snugly on his hips.

"Oh, Niki, cheer up! It's not like he saw anything," James said light-heartedly, shrugging his shoulders, but the frown on Niki's face stayed put. If he didn't fear for his life, James might have made a remark about how delightfully adorable it made him look.

"You make me act like a fool," Niki sighed then, frame relaxing as he reached into his pocket for another cig to replace the one abandoned on the ground, frown still firmly in place.

"My fault now, is it?" James said endearingly, sliding easily back into Niki's personal space.

"Yes, definitely your fault," Niki muttered back, cigarette hanging between his lips as he brought the lighter up, covering the flame with his other hand before taking a long drag.

"I suppose it was, though I didn't really hear you complaining just then," James said with a hint of amusement and Niki gave him a bleak look.

"Shouldn't you be going already?" Niki asked, a challenge in his voice as he tapped his cigarette with an air of indifference, ash scattering on the tip of his shoe.

"I should," James admitted and Niki couldn't quite decide whether the smile on his face was infuriating or charming. James seemed to open his mouth then to say something, but halted mid-way, leaving only the sound of rain between them for a short moment. 

"Come to my room tonight?" James was able to say then after a moment’s hesitation, head dipping slightly closer to Niki's ear, as if afraid that someone might hear them in the empty pit lane.

"Maybe have a few drinks, talk about the race," James went to clarify and had it not been so dark already Niki might have seen the slight pink that rose to his rival's cheeks.

"You know I don't drink before a race," Niki replied dryly, which for some reason made James' smile widen, his eyes slowly mapping the other driver's face.

"No, of course you don't," James said with a small laugh, "but if you change your mind," he continued, tongue swiping over his upper lip and drawing Niki's eyes there, "it's number 472."

Niki lifted his eyes back to meet James' and despite trying to will it away, an undeniable hotness spread through his body, forcing him to look away into the distance lest he do something foolish again. James turned to the door then, finding it suddenly extremely difficult to part with Niki, but knowing that Alastair would soon have his head if he didn't fulfil his contractual duties as McLaren's pet monkey.

"I should be off duty by nine." James turned to say at the door, his voice hopeful and Niki found himself nodding, closing his eyes as the door slammed shut.

The birds were singing in a tree nearby, the downpour drumming the surface of the track. Niki puffed languidly on his cigarette, his head oddly clear, and soon threw the rest to a puddle not far from his feet. Glaring at the sky, he came to the terrible realisation that he really, really wanted to go to James' room, god help him. Yet what he also wanted was to go stand in the rain until he was soaked to the bone and shivering and finally rid of this whirling mass of warmth in his stomach, but instead he walked to the door, cursing as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously there could be a third chapter, but we'll see when inspiration strikes. I didn't realize it when i started writing this fic, but germany was indeed the next gp on the calendar after silverstone, which suits me just fine because this fic was in a dire need of more drama anyways, don't you think ;P


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